Page 67 of Shâhzâdeh

“Savadogo-Warren,” came the gentle correction of a voice I knew was her husband’s. She rolled her eyes but the smile on her face screamed that she secretly liked whenever he did that.

“I know it’s not normal, but I promise you’re in the best hands possible. Come and talk.” She beckoned me with her hands to come closer and I hated how implicitly I trusted her.

I reached her side, my frame slightly taller than hers and when we entered my living room my knees almost buckled from the sight. Her arms tightened around my shoulders to keep me upright.

“What are you doing?” I wasn’t sure how I found my voice, but that was the only question I could ask to gain clarity on the scene before me. I was damn near whispering as I took in what was happening in front of me. This was not going to be a simple chat amongst new acquaintances.

Lounging on the sofa near the patio door was Midas who gave me a sympathetic look but didn’t bother to put an end to the madness. Standing next to him was the tall, bald Black man who’d bumped into Patrick at the restaurant. Shoaib and Quentin were flanking either side of my front door. And standing in the middle of the chaos was Xerxes. His face was calm, demeanor unaffected by the havoc that he had brought in my life. In front of him was Patrick.

And why was Patrick in front of him?

Because he was tied down onto a folding chair with a tarp beneath him with his mouth taped closed. At his neck was a large, curved blade like what I’d seen in Aladdin.When I said he was my favorite Disney prince I probably should’ve petitioned God to not have him come to life and be a serial killer.

“Xerxes. Why do you have a knife at that man’s neck? Because he was rude at the restaurant? Because he grabbed me? I’m fine, I promise. Please don’t hurt him.” Xerxes eyes didn’t turn to me but stayed focus on the back of Patrick’s head.

“You would beg for zhe life of filz? Of a man who doesn’t deserve to breaze air?” Xerxes started to mutter in whatever language it was he spoke and I could hear his cousin chuckle.

“Oh, his ass is really perturbed now.” Midas was sitting on my sofa leisurely like he was watching the opera or something.

“Is no one here going to intervene?” I turned to look at Nevaeh who was still holding onto me. Her face was blank, but her eyes showed that she had no issue with what was happening. I knew the men who were hired for protection weren’t going to say anything so I focused back on Xerxes.

“Xerxes, please. Can you tell me what is going on?” I was pleading with him because I didn’t know what else to say or do.

“What is going on is zhat zhis man was going to hurt you,jameelah.” Xerxes was speaking through his clenched teeth his eyes still not on me. I felt terrible because he never avoided eye contact with me. It felt like a punishment.

“Hurt me how? We left him at the restaurant remember? You can’t punish people for what you think they might do.”

His eyes flickered to me and I wish they hadn’t. The darkness was there. The eyes that would dance with light when he saw me were filled with the fires of rage.

“Oh, I can’t? I would slay a zhousand potential assailants before zhey could harm you. But since you don’t want to listen to me. Quentin, please show her what we found.” Xerxes kept the knife pressed into Patrick’s neck as he motioned toward Quentin who looked apologetic as he stepped forward.

Quentin dropped a large duffel back on the floor and I was yet again disturbed about what I was about to see. That sense of dread had settled heavily inside of the room and I almost wanted to refuse to look in it. This was where the oppressive feeling was coming from. The bag that was on the floor seemed to have ill intentions all over it.

“Xerxes—” my words were a whisper as I became more overwhelmed by what was happening.

He glanced up at me and I could see the outrage on his face. My heart felt shattered looking at his obvious displeasure. “No. You feel as zhough I’m doing a disservice to you by being here. I want to prove to you zhat is not the case. Maybe it is extreme—”

“Cuz, it’s definitely extreme.” Midas was chuckling at his cousin and I just wasn’t sure what was so funny.

“Open the bag, Vanya.”

“No.” I was whispering again because I could feel the malice of whatever Patrick intended.

“Why not? You were so sure I was being harsh. Please, I vant you to open it for me.” He was challenging me but I knew he wasn’t going to let me take one step toward that bag.

“I don’t want to.” I could barely choke out a whisper but I did.

“Why? Because you feel it don’t you? The evil desires zhat are seeping t’rough every t’read of fiber zhat binds the fabric together. Like it was woven togezer intending to hold the tools of harm.”

He was spot on. I felt the bad vibes off the bag as it sat on the ground and I just couldn’t bring myself to touch it. I didn’t even want it in my damn condo.

“I can’t.”

Nevaeh moved around me to touch it, but her husband stopped her.

“Aht, aht! You not bringing bad vibes back to our son.” He sat forward and uncrossed his legs as she glared at him. Midas gave her some type of look that wasn’t a threat but held a promise of punishment. I could only guess what it was.

“I’m not your child.” But she damn sure listened and took a step back.

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